


A Door, From Me, to You

by A_MX



Series: Self-Absorbed [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Janus is the god of the Multiverse, Not Canon Compliant - The Trials of Apollo, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Post-The Blood of Olympus (Heroes of Olympus), and he's also a bitch, janus is the god of decisions, like really just mentioned for one paragraph or so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_MX/pseuds/A_MX
Summary: ‘In hindsight, I wish I had refused. Hubris, I’ve been told, long ago, was my fatal flaw. But in that moment, slightly reassured by his oath, I thought I could handle Janus. To get whatever information he tempted me with, and not be a pawn in whatever scheme he was up to.’Set a few years after The Heroes of Olympus. Annabeth has a run-in with the two-faced god Janus in the streets of New York and gets more than she bargained for.(That sounds more smutty than intended. This is 0% lewd and 0% romance, I promise.)
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Annabeth Chase
Series: Self-Absorbed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539076
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	A Door, From Me, to You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Being Alpha and Omega](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596761) by [Takara_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takara_Phoenix/pseuds/Takara_Phoenix). 

> Hiya! Here's a little thing I wrote, mostly in one go, except for like the first 200 words. A little heads up, rated T for canon-typical violence and like two instances of the f bomb. Read at your own discretion, yadda yadda.

New York welcomed me back as if I’d never left it. The rain drizzled onto my skin as I stepped out of the JFK airport and the first rays of the rising sun cautiously crept over the horizon while I dragged my luggage out of the terminal and towards my waiting cab. I instructed the driver where to drop me off and sank back into the seat, craving nothing more than a hot shower and some more hours of sleep. Spending a week in San Francisco with my dad had been nice, but it had also drained what little energy I had for socialising.

It wasn’t meant to be. We had just barely crossed into Manhattan when the car decided that now might be a great time to die, so after paying the fare and getting off, I found myself in East Village several miles from my doorstep. I pulled out my phone to call another cab—desperate times, desperate measures, monsters be damned—but much to my disappointment, the screen proclaimed that it was unable to pick up a signal. After waiting for a few more minutes, I eventually decided to give up. It wasn’t like a little walk was going to kill me.

I regretted my decision five minutes later. I had walked past a few bus stops already, but mysteriously, no buses had passed me. Nor any other cabs, for that matter. Lower Manhattan seemed to have the least busy Tuesday morning I had ever seen. I should have sensed something was up, but I didn’t, at least not until my ears picked up screaming and I saw flashes of light from the corner of my eye, in a small street just a bit ahead.

I was suddenly glad that I had decided to bring a pair of daggers with me to San Francisco and back. Whatever the X-ray at the airport had mistaken it for, it had to have been harmless enough to pass the checks. I felt pretty ridiculous, rummaging through my suitcase, in plain sight, to find them, but none of the passer-bys paid any attention to me as I ventured into the alleyway, a knife in one hand, my luggage in the other.

The street was mostly empty, but for dumpsters and the occasional parked car. I turned a corner, now out of sight from the main street, and halted. The scene that presented itself to me was unusual, to say the least. Scorch marks of dubious origin covered the walls and floors around a door, with multiple lifeless bodies scattered around it. I noticed the weapons some of the people were clutching—a baseball bat, a pipe, a butterfly knife—and, absent-mindedly, wondered where the victim of this failed robbery had gone to. But what really caught my attention was the door.

It seemed ordinary, at first. Just your average door, in the wall of your average house, down a few steps, maybe into a basement of some sorts. Nothing out of place.

But where the handle should be, a symbol was engraved. The Δ, an Ancient Greek letter.

The symbol of the Labyrinth.

My thoughts were racing. Of course, it could be a coincidence. Someone’s idea of humour. A nerd with a preference for Greek history. Or—

‘Do you know why they call me the God of Doorways?’

I spun around, dagger raised. On the hood of a car, a few yards away, sat a man. He seemed young, not much older than I was, dressed casually in a tanktop and cargo pants. What little sunlight illuminated the place reflected off his obviously trained muscles. As for his face…

It had been a while, and I had never seen him in this form, but the two faces gave him away. One was rather grim, with dark hair, a scruffy beard, and a frown; the other seemed more light-hearted, blonde, a blinding smile on the clean-shaven face.

‘Lord Janus’, I greeted, lowering my weapon. I vividly remembered our previous encounter, when the two-faced God had almost gotten me killed, had it not been for Hera’s intervention. I felt no desire to talk to the split-tongued jerk, but I couldn’t afford to anger yet another deity, no matter how minor and unimportant.

‘Annabeth Chase’, he nodded. ‘Now, doorways. What do you know about doorways?’

‘Uh, well, they have doors? Open and close? Divide rooms?’

I felt stupid, and it was obvious that it was not the answer he wanted to hear, but I wasn’t in the mood to play _Jeopardy_ with him. Whatever he wanted, he would tell me anyway, whether I wanted to hear it or not.

Gods. No respect.

Unbothered, he bent forwards, fingers drumming a pattern on the metal of the hood.

‘A doorway’, his bright face said, ‘is a decision. Warmth or cold, inside or outside, alone or with others.’ The angry face grinned in an unsettling manner and added, ‘love or pain, life or death, health or sickness.’

‘A door’, both of them concluded, ‘is a question.’

I remained silent. The look on both his faces made me uneasy.

‘They call me the God of Doorways’, he eventually continued. ‘The God of Choices, Annabeth Chase. Of Beginnings and of Endings.’

I knew all that. Why did he feel like he needed to play History class with me, of all people?

‘With all due respect, Lord Janus’, I spoke up, ‘I came here because I heard fighting. Are these people…?’ I gestured at the bodies around us.

Janus rolled his eyes. ‘Forget about them. They interfered, that’s all.’

‘But they’re’, I hesitated, but he didn’t protest, ‘well, I think they’re dead.’

The god’s two faces scoffed. ‘What’s it to you?’ the happy head, now less happy, said. ‘Zeus walks around electrocuting people if he’s in a bad mood, but I have to justify defending myself?’ He defiantly crossed his arms over his chest and, with the angry face, added, ‘for what’s it worth, they’ll be fine. The Olympians would have my head if I just ran around killing people.’

‘But this’, he gestured at the scene in general, ‘what do you make of this?’

I breathed a sigh of relief before turning back around to take a second look at the situation. Janus watched me, his expressions varying between boredom and curiosity. Whatever he was up to

‘This door’, I eventually said. ‘It can’t exist. The Labyrinth was destroyed.’

‘Ah, the arrogance of the youth’, the god’s dark-haired face said, at the same time as the blonde face said, ‘astute observation, my dear.’

‘Now, technically, it has been rebuilt’, he continued. ‘But let’s not bother with that. Immortal politics, awful thing, I try to stay out of it these days.’ He smiled an obviously fake smile, and I had to refrain from rolling my eyes at his hardly subtle remark about the unglamorous role he’d played in the war a few years ago.

‘But the point is, this door indeed used to be part of the Labyrinth. It isn’t anymore, of course, but part of the magic is still there.’

I was getting increasingly annoyed, but he didn’t give me a chance to talk. He jumped off the hood of the car and started pacing up and down as he changed the topic.

‘Information! Your mother is Athena, isn’t she, so what do you think about information, Annabeth Chase?’

‘It’s better to have it than not to have it’, I replied. The stance of Athena and her children on knowledge was hardly a secret.

‘Then what do you say’, he asked, suddenly up close in front of me, ‘if I could give you information?’

He stepped back. ‘Nothing as exciting as war, espionage, or next week’s lottery numbers, of course. No, I’m talking information about yourself. What if I could show you… _yourself_.’

The last word was whispered. I swallowed.

‘Where’s the catch?’

‘There isn’t one.’ Something akin to excitement gleamed in the god’s eyes as he brought his grim face closer to mine. ‘Of course, you might be disturbed, when you see the pitfalls of your true self, but that’s on you.’

I took a step back. The more mysterious he was, the more I wanted to know, but even I knew better than to trust a god. Janus seemed to sense my thoughts and shrugged.

‘I promise you no bodily harm, to not attack you, not cause your death, dismemberment, permanent physical damage, or anything the likes’, he stated. His other face smiled, a seemingly carefree smile, and added ‘oath on the Styx and all that.’

In hindsight, I wish I had refused. Hubris, I’ve been told, long ago, was my fatal flaw. But in that moment, slightly reassured by his oath, I thought I could handle Janus. To get whatever information he tempted me with, and not be a pawn in whatever scheme he was up to.

‘Alright’, I nodded. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but… show me.’

Both of his faces lit up as he took me by the shoulders and spun me around until we were facing the wall again.

‘This’, Janus said. ‘Is a door. A door to what used to be the Labyrinth.’

His second face showed an expression vaguely resemblant of satisfaction. I could only imagine that a place like the Labyrinth, with its crossroads, splits, and riddles would appeal to someone who’s job description was all about choices.

‘They call me the God of Doorways, but that’s just the symbol’, he explained. ‘See, every time you make a decision, you make your own path through life. You step through one door, and the other one closes. Infinitely many paths. I call it the multiverse.’

‘And this door’, he smiled, ‘can be any door.’

My head was spinning as I began to comprehend the meaning of his words. If what he was saying was true, that meant—

‘Let me show you who you could have been.’

Janus snapped his fingers, and the door in the wall flew open and bright light flooded the alley. I squinted as my eyes adjusted and saw a sparsely furnished room with beige walls. In a bed by the window lay a woman, my age, her face hidden from my view. The bed, I noticed, was bolted to the floor.

‘Annabeth Chase, 21 years old’, Janus proclaimed with a voice like he was reading from a file. ‘Delusional as a child. Violent outbursts as a teenager. Diagnosed pathological liar. Hallucinates regularly. Locked away for her own good.’

I forced myself to look away and found his eyes fixating me. ‘This Annabeth Chase never ran away from home.’

He motioned for me to look at the doorway again, and the picture changed. A graveyard, with a simple, nondescript gravestone. A handsome blonde man and a black-haired woman stood in front of it.

‘November 20xx. After successfully defending Mount Olympus and defeating the uprising of the Titans, decorated heroes Thalia Grace and Luke Castellan visit the grave of their childhood friend Annabeth Chase, who sacrificed herself at the age of eight to allow her friends to live and reach safety.’

My heart ached at the mention of Luke. Seeing him there, all grown up, and hearing that had I died for him, I could have saved him… I quickly wiped the tears away that threatened to overwhelm me. Again, the god next to me gestured and the view faded to something else.

This woman was hard to recognise as me. Her hair was kept in a military-style buzz cut, wearing a uniform that was burnt and dirty beyond recognition. There was blood on her face, and scars, and she knelt on the floor, chained to something behind her in the dark.

Janus’ voice softened slightly as he spoke. ‘Annabeth Chase ran away at age fourteen. She betrayed her friends’ trust and the safety of their camp to pledge loyalty to her friend and former mentor Luke, a traitor against Olympus, and was imprisoned for the rest of her mortal lifespan after their attempt at overthrowing the Gods failed.’

‘How’, my voice failed me and I coughed and tried again. ‘You promised me information. How is this going to help me?’

The god laughed and it was the first time I saw both his faces show a genuinely happy expression, a happiness rooted in satisfaction and schadenfreude.

‘I said I would show you your true self’, the blonde face mocked. ‘Not to _help_ you’, the black-haired one added. ‘But if you don’t want to see that, how about we look at more… _recent_ decisions?’

I was certain that I didn’t want to see any more, but fear and an abhorrent form of fascination held me in place as, with a cruel grin, Janus directed my attention towards the still open door once more.

This version looked more like me. The scenery was clearly Camp Half-Blood, but the expression on the other Annabeth’s face was more bitter than I had ever seen myself. Before I could ask, a couple strolled into view. A scrawny young man, sporting a black sword by his side, and an all too familiar black-haired man, more buff, but with the same piercing green eyes. Any question about the nature of their relationship that wasn’t already answered by their co-joined hands became obsolete as one of them playfully pushed the other against a wall before mashing their mouths together.

‘How long did you struggle before you worked up the courage to ask him out?’ Janus’ voice ridiculed me. ‘This one never did, and now she has to watch another one snatch away the one she desires.’

Another image. I was seeing the storage closet of the Big House, where two blurry figures were passionately making out against the supply cabinet with the ambrosia in it. It wasn’t until the room came into focus that I recognised who they were and gasped.

‘That’s right’, my torturer gleefully proclaimed. ‘Annabeth Chase never went looking for her boyfriend when he disappeared, leaving him stranded halfway across the country. Instead, she found love in the arms of her new friend, blissfully unaware of that war that was headed her way.’

‘Her name is Piper’, I interrupted. Hopefully my face was less red than it felt like as I turned my eyes away from the obscene display.

He waved his hand. ‘Whatever. Next.’

Against better judgement, I glanced back again. I recognised the prison of New Rome and behind the bars stood… Reyna. It took me a few moments to realise that she was actually standing outside the cell, which placed the other person—me, unsurprisingly—inside.

‘Did you know that your surrender could have prevented the war?’ Janus curiously inquired. ‘You were terribly tortured, of course, but the praetor _touchingly_ saved you from execution before you were sentenced to captivity and slavery to pay for the crimes of your friends.’

Through the door, I could see Reyna and the other Annabeth touch hands through the bars and their faces get closer until their lips met.

‘So lonely that you seek comfort with the your captors’, Janus mocked, ‘so—’

‘Enough!’ I snapped. ‘If you wanted to dunk on my love life, you’re a little late.’

I preferred not to think about the amount of gossip that Percy and my separation had inspired a few years ago.

‘Oh, but I’m not done’, Janus shot back. The pictures were changing faster now, flickering between different times and places. An Annabeth who joined the Hunters. An Annabeth who died in the Labyrinth. ‘No, Annabeth Chase, I said I was going to show you your—’

‘But I am done’, I cut him off, increasingly furious. ‘And I say this is enough.’

He straightened his posture and seemed to grow the more angry he got and the closer he stepped towards me.

‘Annabeth Chase you impertinent, pathetic, little—’

I swear I didn’t even want to. At least not out of anything other than instinct. But the next second, I had hurled the dagger his way. He stopped as the blade hit him in the chest and a few drops of _ichor_, divine blood, hit the floor as he pulled it out and tossed it aside.

‘No harm’, I quipped, voice quivering. ‘You swore.’

Both of his faces distorted into grimaces of anger. ‘For now.’

I closed my eyes just in time to protect them as he burnt up into his true form and disappeared.

When I opened them again, the alley was just as deserted as it had been before. The people on the floor were still there, and one of them groaned, apparently in the process of waking up from whatever sleep or unconsciousness Janus had forced upon them. I quickly gathered my dagger and picked up my luggage, about to leave, when I heard something behind me.

The door in the wall was still open, but this time, someone had come through. A woman my age and my height. Blonde hair, although shorter than mine, and dyed. And her face… was mine.

I dropped my suitcase. With all the blabbering about doors, the little fucknugget of a god sure hadn’t said anything about this one’s magic being two-way. Yet there was me, visibly different, but still me, staggering towards myself.

‘And, which one are you?’ I asked. The other me seemed just as stunned to see more, but before she could answer, we both flinched as the door she had come through slammed shut behind her.

‘I—I don’t—who are you?!’

I was spared having to explain the whole affair, because I had only just noticed the gaping wound on the second Annabeth’s abdomen in front of me when she stumbled onto the concrete and didn’t get up.

I rushed over and, upon feeling for her pulse, was relieved to find her alive, but an unconscious, injured woman on my hands was the last straw. I couldn’t deal with this alone. I took a deep breath and tried to keep calm before considering my options. There was only one person who lived nearby enough to help me out with this.

Visiting the ex wasn’t what I’d had in mind right after returning from vacation, alas here I was, supporting a barely-conscious incarnation of myself over my shoulder while steering both of us to Percy Jackson’s flat.

Fucking Janus.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due: I got the whole headcanon of Janus having power over different realities from one of Takara_Phoenix' fics (I checked the "inspired by another work" box on AO3 so it should mabye hopefully show a link somewhere?)


End file.
